


oh, my sunlight

by holtzmanns



Series: game of survival [2]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Lesbian AU, Some Action, i've missed my game of survival bitches, not a full multichap but, so HERE'S A TINY LITTLE SEQUEL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-11-07 13:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20818403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzmanns/pseuds/holtzmanns
Summary: Brooke gets it. It still amazes her too, sometimes, the way her rings glint on her finger, sparkling in the light whenever she lifts a hand up to her earpiece while she’s on the job. That the woman she’s in charge of protecting, of keeping safe is her wife. All these years later, they’re still doing this. Surviving. Thriving.





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Was I going through Game of Survival withdrawals? Possibly. This fic is going to be a short little one, but I've missed this verse way too much to leave it forever. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think. Title from 'Sunlight' by Hozier. Thank you Writ for betaing <3

_ “Perimeter secured. Firebird’s room flanked by Rollans and McCrae, while Wilson and Qiao already positioned in the crowd. Rodriguez and Byrne across the street at 900 m, on the seventh and twenty fourth floor balconies respectively.” _

“Thanks, Lee.” The all clear from the other Secret Service agent helps Brooke’s heart to unknot itself a little, knowing that the pre-G20 summit event is secure, that Vanessa is protected on multiple levels. She leans against the wall in the tiny meeting room, watches as her wife practices her speech with A’keria. Or at least, is trying to, judging by the way that A’keria’s head is in her hands.

Brooke may be Vanessa’s immediate detail, but having an entire team is useful in countering the ever-present anxiety that pulses through her veins, around her own safety, _ Vanessa’s _safety, their well being. Sure, the days of sniper rifles and late night hits are long gone from Brooke’s life, but their safety has only become more prolific.

As expected, when Brooke’s wife is none other than the President of the United States. 

“Lemme try again. I got it this time, Kiki.” Vanessa’s holding up her cue cards, pacing back and forth. Brooke has to resist a smile at the way Vanessa’s perfectly styled hair and pantsuit contrast with the slight frown on her face as she squints at the cards. 

“Vanj, I swear to god. Imma have to hire you a proper speechwriter eventually, ‘cause you’re the sole cause of these wrinkles on my face.” A’keria’s feet are propped up on the chair beside her as she lets out a sigh, and Brooke’s glad that it’s just the three of them in the room, reporters and summit participants from other nations gathering in the larger conference hall, where Vanessa will be giving part of the opening remarks. 

“Why do you gotta put all of these difficult words in here, anyway? My brain has forgotten all of this shit from college.” Vanessa sighs as she flops into a seat on A’keria’s other side, spinning around so that she’s facing Brooke. She pouts, and Brooke can’t help but blow her a small kiss.

“You can do it, baby. I believe in you.” Vanessa smiles at Brooke’s words despite her slumped shoulders, blowing a kiss back at her. “You’ll dazzle them like you do every single time.”

“You have to say that. We’re married.” Vanessa says the words with a sliver of marvel in her voice, as if it hasn’t been four years of marriage for the two of them already, as if they’re not well into Vanessa’s second term as president.

Brooke gets it. It still amazes her too, sometimes, the way her rings glint on her finger, sparkling in the light whenever she lifts a hand up to her earpiece while she’s on the job. That the woman she’s in charge of protecting, of keeping safe is her wife. All these years later, they’re still doing this. Surviving. Thriving. 

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” Brooke walks over to Vanessa and presses a light kiss to her lips, lifts her thumb to wipe the faint transfer of her lipstick that contrasts with the one that Vanessa’s already wearing. 

“Save that for later.” A’keria waves a hand in their faces, making both of them crack up. “You gotta learn to pronounce words like _ ‘ratification’ _ first.” 

“I don’t give a _ rat’s _ass, Kiki.” Vanessa drops her cue cards on the table as A’keria sighs in the same tone commonly used by an elementary school teacher. 

“Yes you do. Now, we got fifteen minutes until you’re up in front of all of those cameras and other world leaders. You want them to think you’re a fool?” 

Vanessa shrugs. “I’ve met most of them, how many times? Too many times. Except the new President of Mexico, he was just elected last month. I’ll be fine.”

Brooke watches with an amused smile as Vanessa pats A’keria’s shoulder as she drops her head onto the table. “There, there. From the top?” 

* * *

“Firebird in position. Rollans, take the east aisle. Qiao, the west. McCrae, I want you in the media box.” Brooke mutters softly into her earpiece as clapping erupts when Vanessa steps on stage, takes her place at the podium. Her mind’s running at a million miles an hour, mapping out routes along the convention hall, looking for points of vulnerability, anything that can put Vanessa at risk.

_ “Roger that.” _The voice of a fellow agent reverberates in her ear, followed by the other members of the team in turn. Secure. As they should be.

Brooke lets her mind pause its process for a second when Vanessa begins to speak, the pin on her lapel sparkling under the flashing lights of the cameras around her. She doesn’t spare a glance at her cue cards, letting the words roll off of her tongue almost effortlessly. Brooke would be impressed if this wasn’t Vanessa’s norm, pulling herself together at the last minute, but perfectly so. The rapt attention of the other attendants at the summit, following Vanessa’s every move like they’re being pulled in by a magnet as she steps away from the podium, is electrifying to watch.

Vanessa’s good. So, so good at what she does, and it hits Brooke every day how lucky she is to witness it.

_ “...look forward to productive conversations with my international counterparts over the next few days, specifically on the risk mitigation of…” _

Brooke tunes out Vanessa’s speech, having heard it at least twenty times before she had stepped on stage. She lets her eyes roam around the crowd, noticing the way that the Argentinian president seems to be doodling on a napkin on his table, his Finance Minister furiously elbowing his side. 

Sometimes, the international meetings truly make Brooke feel like she’s in high school again. Still a fly on the wall, watching the chaos unfold in front of her. 

_ “Hytes? You spot the server in the second aisle? He looking a bit suspicious to you?” _

Brooke cranes her neck to look at the far aisle, sees the man that her fellow agent is talking about. Narrows her eyes at the ill fit of the server’s uniform, the way his eyes are darting around the conference hall. 

“Get him d-”

Brooke doesn’t get to finish her sentence when the man lets off a smoke bomb, because she’s taking one, two steps up to the podium to reach Vanessa, a protective arm around her as she pulls through the back doors behind the stage. 

“Shit.” Brooke’s arms around Vanessa tighten when state sanctioned police swarm past them into the conference hall, nearly knocking them over. She recovers quickly, though, tugging Vanessa back into the meeting room where she had practiced her speech with A’keria, locking the door behind them. 

“Hey. You okay?” Brooke can’t help the way that her eyes flit over Vanessa’s face, looking for any sign of harm, of damage. Her hands brush Vanessa’s hair out of her face, pat down her shoulders and arms as if the motion is going to help her find any hidden injury.

Vanessa lets out a shaky breath, one that is nearly drowned out by the sounds of chaos on the other side of the wall. “I’m okay. Wait.” Vanessa’s brow furrows, her hand reaching up to brush against Brooke’s forehead. “Why are you bleeding?”

“What?” Brooke’s wondering if Vanessa herself has hit her head until Vanessa pulls her fingers back, sees the way that they’re dripping in blood. “Oh.” 

Huh. She’s confused by the sight, not being in any pain. She’s not quite sure when it had happened, either. Maybe the way her head accidentally hit the podium as she reached Vanessa? Or maybe when the police had knocked against her?

Still, doesn’t matter since it’s not hurting her. And because Vanessa’s safe in front of her, uninjured and in one piece. 

Things are okay. 

“Shit, baby.” Vanessa’s tone differs from Brooke’s appraisal of the situation as she grabs the tissue box from the middle of the conference table, folds it up and presses it to Brooke’s head biting her lip all the while. “I’m no doctor.”

“It’s fine, V. Head lacerations tend to bleed. Probably just a surface scratch.” Brooke’s had her fair share of cuts and bruises throughout her life, and remains unfazed, reaching for her earpiece to quell the incessant requests for updates from her fellow agents. 

“Firebird is safe with me.” The sighs of relief over the comm system as soon as the words leave Brooke’s lips are comically in sync. “Updates?”

Another agent starts talking about the takedown of the man, about how he had attempted to pull out a weapon before being brought down, but the words are becoming a little softer, a little bit more muffled. Brooke watches as Vanessa grabs another tissue, pressing it to her forehead after pulling the other one back, and is she really bleeding that much? Huh.

Come to think of it, Vanessa’s getting a bit blurry in front of her, too. 

“Brooke Lynn Hytes, if you faint on me in this meeting room while there’s an actual stampede happening outside these doors, I swear to god-”

* * *

“Don’t be embarrassed, B.” Vanessa’s giggle only makes Brooke groan, lifting a hand to cover her face underneath the fluorescent lighting overhead. The bandage on the side of her forehead feels overbearing, squeezing her temple just a bit too tight. 

“I really fainted? Fully fainted?” A nightmare. A true nightmare, one that Brooke thinks Vanessa is finding a little bit too funny as she sits on a chair beside her ER bed.

“Why else would we bring your dramatic ass here? The on site medic was worried about blood loss. Wanted you to get checked out, with some stitches. Silk got them to shut down half of the ER in the process, while tryna get me here with you on the down low and all.”

“Ugh.” Brooke wants to disappear. The last thing that she should be doing at her job is drawing attention to herself. She’s supposed to be protecting Vanessa, but instead has created an entire debacle for the both of them. 

Vanessa squeezes her hand. “It’s not like we’re missing anything at the summit. Ended for the day after all that chaos. Resuming tomorrow.”

“Good.” Brooke lets out a breath. The last thing she wants to do is pull Vanessa away from her job. 

“‘Sides, everyone’s worried about you. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” Brooke groans louder at Vanessa’s statement. She doesn’t like drawing the focus. Even if their delegation is worried, she knows that her security team is going to make fun of her like there’s no tomorrow once they head back. She’s not ready for the roasts about her penchant for injuring herself in hilariously dramatic ways.

“Mrs. Hytes-Mateo?” Vanessa and Brooke both look up at the doctor who’s poked his head into the room, past the security detail stationed outside the door. 

“This is she.” Brooke’s statement is ignored as the doctor does a double take at Vanessa, who diplomatically stands up to shake his hand.

“H-hello, Madame President, I was wondering why there was so much security in my ER, it’s beginning to make sense now-”

Vanessa cuts off the man’s rambling. “Is my wife going to be okay?”

“What-oh. Yes, a couple of stitches and she’ll be good as new. Now, concerning the pregnancy, as it is quite early on there should be no lasting issues-”

Huh?

Brooke can feel her own mouth drop open as Vanessa holds up a hand to pause the doctor. “Pregnancy?”

“Yes, as you probably know-”

Pregnancy.

She’s pregnant. 

Actually pregnant. 

Sure, they had an appointment scheduled for after the summit to follow up after the embryo transfers, but after so many failed attempts, Brooke hasn’t had her hopes up that this time would be successful, and has tried to prepare herself for the worst-

Pregnant.

The word echoes around her brain, replaying over and over and over again, and she can’t have imagined the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth because Vanessa’s face is equally flabbergasted, equally in shock as she grips the armrests of her chair.

“What’d you say, Doc?” Vanessa’s voice comes out in a squeak. 

Brooke looks up at the doctor, her eyes wide as the blood rushes through her veins because the words haven’t quite sunk in yet (she’s pregnant, she’s _ pregnant _), and he takes a step back.

“Oh? I’m sorry, I thought you were already aware…” He trails off, and Brooke thinks it’s just as well, because she can’t focus on any coherent conversation right now because she’s _ pregnant. _

But then suddenly there’s a weight on her chest and it’s Vanessa, hugging her midsection before she lifts her teary face up towards hers to kiss her. Vanessa’s eyes are alight when she pulls back, a grin on her face so bright that it’s damn near about to knock Brooke over. 

“Oh my god.” The words leave Brooke in a gasp, because it’s surreal, it’s not happening, not after so many disappointments and so much trying and they were going to give _ up _ after this one last attempt, but now they don’t have to, because-

“We’re having a baby.” Vanessa chokes out a sob, sniffles and Brooke pulls her closer, shaky hands on either side of her face and kisses the tears on her cheeks. She’s dreamed about this, _ they’ve _dreamed about this for so long, this moment, this one moment that’s turned out to be a bit different from what Brooke had imagined it as but she doesn’t care, because it’s real. It’s happening. 

Vanessa spins suddenly to face the doctor, holds up an accusatory finger that nearly makes him take a step backwards. “Are you sure? How do you know?”

“W-well, we’d done a blood test earlier to test her iron levels to see if that had a factor in her collapsing, and a certain hormone was elevated in her blood, one that is indicative of pregnancy-”

Brooke doesn’t even hear the rest of the doctor’s explanation because Vanessa’s kissing her again, resting a light hand on her stomach and holy _ fuck _, she’s growing a baby and they’re having a baby, and-

Vanessa pulls back, grabs both of Brooke’s hands, squeezing them. The touch grounds her, bringing her attention back to the room, the ER room that feels almost ridiculous to be sitting in, because who cares about a small scrape on her forehead when they’re going to have a baby?

“Your First Lady is knocked up.” Brooke lets out a little giggle with the words, one that Vanessa mirrors because it feels surreal. Everything is surreal, and for a second Brooke forgets that Vanessa’s in charge of one of the most powerful nations on the planet, that her being in her second presidential term is going to make this process all the more public, put even more of a spotlight on them.

It doesn’t matter.

They’re going to be parents. 


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ever heard of knocking, Silk?” Vanessa grumbles underneath her breath when Silky is followed by two baby faced interns, jotting down notes as they look around the room. “These ain’t open quarters.” 
> 
> Brooke forgets, sometimes, that they’re living in the White House. That the high ceilings and ominous portraits that line the walls hold a long, detailed history. That the low hum of noise that’s always present is because their residence holds not only their living quarters, but also government offices and tours for the public.
> 
> “But I’m your best friend and also part of your staff, and the one who has to tell you that your ass is going to be late to meet the Chancellor of Germany, and that ain’t a good look for anyone.” Silky turns towards the interns, whispering something to them before they run off. 
> 
> Vanessa waves a hand airily. “Angela won’t even be mad. Hell, she gave me a hug the last time that we met. We’re cool.”
> 
> Silky shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you got the nerve to call her ‘Angela’.” 
> 
> Vanessa shrugs. “That’s her name, ain’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! I love this verse so, so much. Thank you for all the sweet words on the first chapter, I appreciate it endlessly. Thank you writ for betaing and being wonderful <3

“Stupid blazer, so much for being a maternity fit-”

“You good, baby?” Vanessa pops her head out from their en suite bathroom, half dressed in the pantsuit that she’s going to be wearing for the German Chancellor’s state visit.

Brooke huffs. “Can’t get these buttons to close. How am I supposed to look professional if I can’t even button my damn blazer over my belly?”

Vanessa walks over, a soft grin taking over her face before she leans down to kiss Brooke’s stomach, grabbing both sides of her blazer. She fiddles with it, tongue poking out and lets out a whoop when she gets the blazer closed. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on keeping up the pantsuits. There’s gotta be other clothes that are more-”

“Nope. Still gotta match the rest of the agents.” Brooke doesn’t even see it as an option. She can still keep up with everyone, she’s still the agent in command and she’s not going to be sitting back unless she fully has to.

“You’re seven and a half months pregnant, B. Don’t think that I didn’t hear you grumbling about your back aching earlier.” Vanessa comes up behind her to massage out the knots in her shoulders and Brooke can’t help but sigh into the touch. 

“Dunno what you’re talking about, Ness.” Brooke’s good at handling herself. She’s been trying her best throughout the pregnancy to keep up, to not let things change, despite Vanessa’s tutting about it.

Brooke knows that she’s going to have to cut down on the work soon, for Vanessa’s sake more than anything else. Her wife’s been more worried than she has, always willing to let engagements and presidential business slide for any prenatal appointments, or any moments when Brooke hasn’t been feeling the best. Not that Brooke wants Vanessa to worry too much about her.

As little as she wants to admit it, Brooke’s been enjoying the doting. It had irritated her slightly at first, Vanessa being overly worried and willing to push anything aside for her needs. It had reminded Brooke of when she had been recovering from being shot years and years ago - her natural tendency of wanting to fold in on herself and silently carry on not being possible with Vanessa at her side. But she’s learned, over time. To accept help from those who want to give it. Especially her wife. 

“I’m gonna give you a full back massage tonight, regardless.” Vanessa places a kiss to Brooke’s shoulder before coming around to face her. 

Brooke grins. “A massage, huh?” 

“Get your dirty ass mind out of the gutter. Though that can be arranged, too.” Vanessa winks at her. “Do you need help with your pants?”

Brooke huffs. “I’m pregnant, not incapacitated-”

“-Your belly is also starting to block your view of your feet, baby.” Vanessa ignores Brooke’s protests and grabs her pants, holding them out for Brooke to step into.

Brooke scoffs when Vanessa buttons her pants for her ('_There, was that so hard?’) _, but has to admit to herself that Vanessa’s help speeds up her changing process by quite a bit.

Vanessa tugs on her own blazer as Silky barges into their bedroom. “You got approximately twenty minutes before we gotta go down to the first floor and debrief.”

“Ever heard of knocking, Silk?” Vanessa grumbles underneath her breath when Silky is followed by two baby faced interns, jotting down notes as they look around the room. “These ain’t open quarters.” 

Brooke forgets, sometimes, that they’re living in the White House. That the high ceilings and ominous portraits that line the walls hold a long, detailed history. That the low hum of noise that’s always present is because their residence holds not only their living quarters, but also government offices and tours for the public.

“But I’m your best friend and _ also _ part of your staff, and the one who has to tell you that your ass is going to be late to meet the Chancellor of Germany, and that ain’t a good look for anyone.” Silky turns towards the interns, whispering something to them before they run off. 

Vanessa waves a hand airily. “Angela won’t even be mad. Hell, she gave me a hug the last time that we met. We’re cool.”

Silky shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you got the nerve to call her ‘Angela’.” 

Vanessa shrugs. “That’s her name, ain’t it?”

Brooke has to hold back a smile. She never gets tired of watching Vanessa. It’s refreshing, really, the way her natural charisma tends to lend itself to politics. The way she’s been able to actually accomplish things during her time in office because she can use her likeability to her advantage. It’s an art, one that Vanessa’s truly perfected.

Silky leans back against the bedframe, turning towards Brooke. “Wilson’s looking for you. Something about perimeter mumbo jumbo. Hell if I know.”

Brooke snorts. “So helpful. Thanks though, I’ll contact him.” She pulls out her work phone to call the other agent, talking through the security measures for the Chancellor’s visit. 

It bothers Brooke more than she wants to admit, the fact that she can’t physically do the work anymore. Being the one on the front lines, protecting Vanessa. Brooke feels like she should be the one doing it, because how can she trust other people not to make stupid mistakes and put Vanessa in danger?

But she’s been trying. To let go, to relax. To delegate.

To prioritize the fact that she’s growing a small human. _ Their _small human.

She still can’t believe it sometimes, that it’s actually happening.

* * *

_ The one line on the pregnancy test is staring back at her, taunting her, because- _

_ It didn’t work. _

_ Maybe she should take another one. Maybe this first one is lying. Maybe it did work this time. This is their third round of IVF, after all, shouldn’t it have worked by now? _

_ What are they doing wrong? _

_ What is Brooke doing wrong? _

_ “Open up, B. What does it say?” _

_ Vanessa’s fist banging on the door makes Brooke squeeze her eyes shut tight, because no, no, no, Vanessa’s going to be heartbroken because it’s happened _again-

_ “Brooke.” Vanessa’s voice, again. Softer this time. “Can I come in?” _

_ Brooke sniffles (she’s not crying, she’s not crying, when did she start crying?), reaching over from her cross legged position on the ground to unlock the door. _

_ It didn’t work. _

_ Again. _

_ She’s not pregnant. _

_ Again. _

_ “Oh, baby.” Vanessa’s looking at Brooke and scooting onto the floor beside her and her arms are wrapping around her shoulders, squeezing her so tight and for a second the deep pressure is grounding, making everything okay, before their ugly reality rears its head again because the test is still in her hand. Staring up at her. Mocking her. Leering at her. _

_ Brooke’s a failure. _

_ Again. _

_ “I’m sorry, Ness.” The words feel like lead in her mouth, because saying them makes it true - that this cycle of IVF failed. Like the last one, and the one before that. Because the injections, the supplements, the doctor’s visits were all in vain. They made no difference, in the end. _

_ It didn’t work. _

_ “Shhh.” Vanessa’s hand is gentle on her cheek, wiping the tear that’s threatening to fall. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. Let’s make that clear.” _

_ “But-” _

_ “We’re doing everything right, baby, okay? It’s not your fault, it’s not my fault. It’s not either of our faults.” Vanessa’s other hand is running through her hair and a small part of Brooke wonders if she even deserves the comfort. _

_ “But it should have happened by now, what if I’m doing something wrong, what if-” _

_ “Brooke-” _

_ “I can’t, I-” _

_ “Shh.” Vanessa’s arms are around Brooke again, squeezing her tight and somehow it cuts through the fog of her thoughts, the beating of her heart that’s getting faster and faster along with the spiralling in her mind. Vanessa’s bringing Brooke back down, keeping the various pieces of her all together that are so prone to shattering from her thoughts and memories. _

_ “We’ll try again. If you want. Or we don’t have to. But we don’t have to talk about it right now.” Vanessa’s whispers are warm in her ear, soft and reassuring and Brooke almost hates it. That Vanessa has to do this. Be the one to keep them from breaking. _

_ Because that’s Brooke’s job. _

* * *

“...And then the Secretary of Commerce’s office wants to set up a meeting about the tariffs on the lumber exports, we’ll need to do that before the bill goes in front of the legislature.” Blair’s voice squeaks as she speaks, her eyes flitting between Vanessa and the rest of her team.

“Thank you, St. Clair. Call them and set it up for late next week, maybe Friday in the a.m?” A’keria’s voice is all business as she rifles through her agenda. Vanessa’s glad that she’s got A’keria on as her Chief of Staff. Being in charge of overseeing the office’s day to day flow, she’s adept at keeping everyone in line, from the interns like Blair to Vanessa herself.

Vanessa has to admit, she’s more of a headache to A’keria than any of the interns.

A’keria dismisses the rest of the team, letting them leave the Oval Office before closing the door. “Question, while I work on your schedule. You still serious about this whole parental leave thing?”

Vanessa looks at A’keria as if she’s grown two heads. “Obviously. We’re about to have a baby. Do I look like I can focus on running a country?”

“You’re the President, Vanj. That’s your damn job description.”

“Hey, if the New Zealand Prime Minister took maternity leave when she had her kid way back when, so can I.” Vanessa shrugs, leaning back in her desk chair. “Break the glass ceiling here and all that.”

A’keria rubs at her temples. “Okay, so we’ll get the VP to step in as deputy, fine. You’ll still have to consult here and there during the leave, though, or this whole place will fall to shit.”

Vanessa waves a hand. “Everyone will survive. I’m gonna have more important things to focus on. 

The thought makes her stomach do flips every single time.

A baby.

Her and Brooke are going to have a _ baby. _

It’s now been eight months since they found out, since their world had flipped on its axis because it finally became real and now it’s happening, really happening.

Vanessa looks up at the clock. 7:35 p.m. She knows about Brooke’s tendencies to overwork herself, which normally she doesn’t want to interfere with. But the pregnancy has turned Vanessa into a mother hen, one that wants to hover around Brooke and make sure she’s safe and okay, even though she knows it’s probably annoying. 

She dials Brooke’s number, waiting for it to ring. 

“Hey, V.” Brooke’s voice is soft and Vanessa can almost hear the grin in it. 

“Hey yourself.” Vanessa’s brow furrows at the rustling noises in the background of the call. “You still working?” 

“Finishing up a meeting.”

Vanessa sighs. “Brooke-”

“I know, I know. We’re done, now.” 

“Good.” Vanessa’s can hear how soft her own voice is, in relief more than anything else. “Wanna grab dinner together?”

“Just us?” Brooke’s question makes sense - they’re both used to working through meals a lot of the time, having lunchtime meetings or dinnertime conference calls with those in other timezones or others that they haven’t been able to reach during the day. 

“Just us. I don’t have anything until nine, a conference call with the U.S Embassy in Japan.” Vanessa smiles. “Well, the three of us.”

“Yeah. The three of us.” Brooke’s voice is full of marvel. The fact that they’re going to have a baby is becoming more and more real as the months pass. As Brooke begins to show more and more, as every prenatal appointment passes and while confirming that their baby is healthy. But the fact that they’ll get to meet their child in a month and a half, the fact that they’ll go from being a duo to a trio-

It feels unbelievable.

Vanessa’s been through so much with Brooke. Experienced so many highs, so many lows. Experienced so much of what life has to offer, and experienced brushes with death, too. 

Soon, they’re going to have a chance to add to their team. 

Vanessa heads from the Oval Office over to their private wing of the White House, getting stopped along the way approximately four times to sign various papers and answer questions from harried members of staff. The answers roll off of her tongue like second nature, like she was born to do this.

At the beginning of her first term, Vanessa had felt way, way, over her head, as if she had jumped from a small pond to deep into the Atlantic ocean with no life jacket to keep her afloat. It had been a learning curve despite her many years in politics - learning how to stay on top of things, how to manage not only a bigger staff, but an entire country. The voices of her opponents on the campaign trail had begun to sink into her inner monologue, droning on about how she was too young, too inexperienced, too incapable of the job. They’d made her feel like she was faking it, like she wouldn’t be able to get through.

But Vanessa’s learned, over the years. And now, into her second term, she’s gotten more comfortable with using her natural confidence and abilities, because she knows what she’s doing. 

There’s no way she could have gotten this job if she didn’t. 

Brooke’s already taking out plates for the two of them when Vanessa reaches the dining room, and Vanessa has to stand on her tiptoes to kiss her, leaning over her belly. 

“Baby was extra antsy during the meeting today.” Brooke grabs Vanessa’s hand and places it on her stomach, where a small bulge is protruding. 

“His little feetsies!” Vanessa practically squeals when she feels it sticking out. 

“Or her.” Brooke grins. “We don’t know that yet.”

“And we’re not finding out until they’re born, so may as well use any and all pronouns.” Vanessa presses a kiss to Brooke’s stomach. “Hi, baby. Been good for your mama all day?”

“Pressing on my bladder like mad.” Brooke huffs. “I had to pee practically every five minutes.” 

Vanessa tries to hold back a laugh. “Not gonna lie, I’m glad that it’s you who’s carrying first.” 

“Oh, just you wait.” Brooke tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I’m going to have a great time basking it when you have to go through all the pregnancy stuff.” 

They grab their food from the trolley that’s been brought up from the White House kitchen. The fact that they don’t have to cook if they don’t want to would be a lot more enjoyable to Vanessa were the two of them not so incredibly busy with work. Though it’s moments like these that Vanessa appreciates not having to grocery shop or wash dishes or work away in the kitchen. She just gets to spend her downtime with Brooke. 

“Wanna eat in the den?” Vanessa nudges Brooke’s side. “More comfy.” 

“Yeah. My back has been killing me all day, I want to veg out a bit.” Brooke holds up a hand before Vanessa can even open her mouth in concern and say a word. “And yes, you can give me a back massage, and no, I won’t take an easy day tomorrow.”

“_Brooke._” Vanessa huffs as they walk over to the den. “You shouldn’t push yourself if you’re-”

“I’m not, V.” Brooke falls down onto the couch with a sigh as she tries to get comfy, shuffling the cushions by her back. “I just want to be active for as long as possible, that’s all.” 

Vanessa sticks another cushion behind Brooke for good measure. “Just take care of yourself, okay? You know yourself better than I do, but you also once accidentally cut your finger on a jar and said it was just like a papercut, and then it wouldn’t wouldn’t stop bleeding and _ then _ you needed stitches. Stitches!”

Brooke snorts at the memory. “Good times. That was funny. Still got the scar from that. The stitches didn’t even hurt.” 

Vanessa’s about to huff, go off again because Brooke is too blasé about her own health sometimes and it worries her, it really does, when Brooke grabs her hand and kisses it. It’s a flimsy tactic, but never fails at making Vanessa absolutely melt. 

“I know my limits, Nessa, ‘kay? I’ll be careful, you know that.”

Vanessa sighs. “I do.” It’s just that it makes her nervous, she wants Brooke to be okay, and wants the baby to be okay, and doesn’t want anything to go wrong.

She’s gotten too close to losing Brooke in the past. The sleepless nights Vanessa’s spent in a chair beside a hospital bed, fears that Brooke would never wake up.

Vanessa never wants to experience that ever again. 

“Here, watch this.” Brooke puts her now empty plate on the table beside the couch, moving a hand to rub her belly. “I’ve learned exactly how to make him all mad. Discovered it today, during the meeting.” 

“Mad?” Vanessa scoots closer, resting a hand on Brooke’s stomach. “And what happened to ‘_we don’t know yet _?’”

“I know, I know.” Brooke shrugs. “It’s fun to guess, though. Now, watch this. He reacts when I rub the side of my stomach, right here.” 

Brooke presses her hand to her side, and Vanessa watches with wonder as her belly moves, their baby active and shifting around. She can’t help but reach out and put her hand beside Brooke’s, letting out a little whoop when she feels their baby kick. 

“She’s so active! Or he. Or they. I love them so much already.” Vanessa can’t help the way that she’s already tearing up. 

“And here I thought that I was the pregnant, hormonal one.” Brooke’s sniffling too, and Vanessa burrows herself into her side, her heart full and all of the possibilities of the world laid out in front of them. 

She’d never thought in her wildest dreams that she would ever get so lucky. 

* * *

_ Brooke’s therapist had told her not to bottle things up, stick them in the pretty boxes in her heart, never to be opened again because everything would eventually crumble. The pile of boxes. From all the bad thoughts and thorn laced memories that she didn’t want to think about. _

_ “It’s okay to lean on your wife sometimes,” he had said, “Just like she leans on you.” _

_ They’re in a fancy suite in Boston, because Vanessa is meeting with the state’s senator tomorrow and then has a media blitz day. But Brooke can’t sleep, even though they’re going to have to wake up at 6 a.m. so that Vanessa can look ‘media ready,’ as A’keria puts it. _

_ Brooke tries to distract herself with the plan for tomorrow - how many cars they’re going to take, the way she’s going to distribute the agents for the myriad of events and locations. It normally calms her, soothes her; being a creature of preparedness and having the need for everything being under control. But tonight her stomach is cramping, the pain hollow in her abdomen a reminder of what they’re going through. _

_ The cramping is normal, the doctor had told her. After implantation of the embryos. _

_ But will a pregnancy take? _

_ Will it work? _

_ Or will it be like the last three cycles? _

_ Brooke can’t help but think that maybe it has something to do with her. _

_ She has half a mind to poke Vanessa, wake her from her slumber. Spill all the worries that are building up in her head and threatening to escape at any moment, unless they drive her insane first. _

_ But Vanessa’s fast asleep, her mouth slightly parted as her waves frame her face and for a second she doesn’t even look like the President of the United States. She’s the woman that Brooke fell in love with in a cabin in the woods and nearly died for. _

_ It baffles Brooke every day, the fact that Vanessa loves her. Is married to her. Despite everything, all that’s happened. _

_ Everything that Brooke’s done in her life. _

_ It’s not her, not anymore. But it used to be. _

_ Brooke had murdered people in cold blood, murdered people for money. She had her own fucked up moral code that she used to guide herself in the direction of what was least societally reprehensible, but still. _

_ Doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s extinguished lives. Ended bloodlines, shattered families. No matter if they belonged to douchebags or criminals or whomever. Brooke had still done it. Willingly. _

_ Who is she now to even want to bring a life into this world? _

_ The universe is probably laughing in her face right now, at her absolute audacity to even try again. They’re probably going to find out the same thing a fourth time. _

_ Not pregnant. _

_ It’s not like Brooke deserves to be, anyway, not after what she’s done. _

_ In the past, Brooke had never been one to believe in karma. But the way that her and Vanessa keep trying and trying, the way that they keep seeing friends and coworkers and even people on fucking television announce that they’re pregnant feels like a huge cosmic joke. Like the universe wants to rub it in her face. _

_ Fucked up real bad in the past? Well, she’s going to pay for it now, while bringing Vanessa down with her. Sweet, amazing Vanessa, who deserves better than this. Better than Brooke and all her karmic baggage. _

_ Brooke doesn’t want to wake her. Maybe she’ll talk to her in the morning instead. _

* * *

Brooke really, really needs watermelon.

Really needs it.

Desperately needs it.

She’d had insane cravings during her second trimester, constantly on the hunt in the White House kitchens for a certain type of ice cream, or her favourite dill pickles. The cravings had died down during the recent weeks, but now they’re back with a vengeance. At nearly nine months pregnant. 

Brooke has to get work done for the diplomat visits to the White House over the next few weeks, review the security plans submitted by her agents that are waiting in her email before she officially has to go on leave, but all she can think about is watermelon. 

A nice slice of watermelon. The kind that’s super sweet, super juicy, the kind that’s the best in the summer months when it’s hot outside.

She needs some watermelon. 

_ BLH: I need your help. _

_ VVM: What??? Ok coming to your office in 5. _

_ BLH: No wait, just- _

Vanessa’s flinging open the door before Brooke can even send her text. It’s convenient, really, that Brooke’s office is so close to the Oval Office. But Vanessa’s looking around the room wildly, looking at her for any signs of distress or pain, and Brooke suddenly feels guilty.

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you hurt? In pain? Do we need to go to the hospital?” Vanessa’s hand is brushing the hair away from her face, her eyes looking her up and down.

“No.” Brooke mumbles because now she’s almost embarrassed. Almost. “I just…”

“You just what?” Vanessa’s crouching beside her desk chair, eyebrows raised. “Spit it out, baby.”

“I want watermelon. I really really want some.” Brooke squeaks out the words, because one of her agents is standing in the doorway, and she’s truly never going to hear the end of the teasing if they catch any of their conversation. 

“Watermelon?!” Vanessa’s voice echoes around the room and really, so much for keeping it on the down low. Brooke nearly facepalms. “I ran here in these high ass heels for watermelon?” 

“Well, technically I didn’t make you run-”

“Watermelon._ Watermelon? _”

“In my defense, I really, really need some?” Brooke gives the most angelic smile that she can down to her wife, who’s crouched down on the floor and having a crisis.

“Watermelon.”

“Please?” Brooke pouts and she can see Vanessa’s resolve break, her features immediately melting as she stands back up to press a kiss to her lips. 

“Okay, baby. I’ll head down to the kitchen and get you some watermelon.” 

Brooke beams, because she really does love her wife. “Thank you.” 

Sure, Brooke finds it hard to accept help sometimes. But her pregnancy brain is quite adept at overruling her rational side, something her therapist would be quite impressed with. 

Brooke’s happy with the watermelon when Vanessa brings her some, using her stomach like a shelf and resting her bowl on top of it as she types. Her abdomen has been bothering her all day, cramping off and on, though she’s not too worried after their last prenatal visit. Her doctor had said that such cramps were normal towards the end of pregnancy. 

Brooke knows to expect it. She’s not going to be a wuss that shows up at the hospital way too early, thinking that she’s having contractions. 

Nah, Brooke’s fine. She’s going to keep working. She needs to finish sending these emails, anyway.

Brooke pushes against the armrests of her desk chair to stand up once she hits send on the last email, letting out a grunt as she does. The bathroom’s been calling her name all throughout the work, the baby once again pushing on her bladder with no signs of letting up. She’s ready to waddle over, go to the bathroom for the fourth time today when she feels a slight whoosh. 

Her pants are wet.

Brooke lets out a groan, because has she really peed her pants? Does being nearly nine months pregnant make women incontinent?

How embarrassing.

Brooke looks down to assess the state of her clothes, and she’s definitely got a wet spot on her pants, along with one on her chair. 

She’s about to grumble and attempt to deal with the mess, except she realizes that she still feels like she needs to pee. So maybe, she hasn’t just peed her pants?

But then…

It doesn’t make sense to Brooke. Her water can’t be broken. She’s still two weeks ahead of her actual due date.

But she’s _ definitely _feeling some sort of leakage, and she still has to pee, and her abdomen is really, really starting to hurt.

_ “Brooke, baby, I can’t bring you more watermelon, the Chief of Security is in my office right now-” _

“Ness, I think my water broke.” Brooke whispers into the phone at her desk, because there are still agents on the other side of her door, and she doesn’t want to cause a stir, really, because maybe it’s not that big of a deal if it’s happened so early-

_ “WHAT?” _ Vanessa’s voice blares through the phone and Brooke has to pull the receiver away from her ear, because Vanessa is _ loud. _

“I think so, at least-”

_ “Forget this meeting, fuck it - whoops, sorry sir - my wife is in labour, I need to go, we can reschedule this, right? A’keria! Reschedule it! Brooke’s in labour!” _

Brooke can practically hear Vanessa yelling as she gets closer and closer to her own office, heaving the door open and it’s a good thing Vanessa’s here now, because fuck.

The pains are definitely contractions now. 

“Do we need to go? Should I tell one of the interns to call a car? Who should drive? Should _ I _drive?” Vanessa’s pacing in front of her desk and Brooke wants to laugh, really, except she’s having to breathe a little bit harder through the pain. 

Not that the pain is that bad. She’s okay, really. 

“You’re not going to drive, babe. We’re-” Brooke takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as she can feel another contraction start. “We’ll get someone to drive us.”

“Should I ask Kiki? No wait, I can’t ask Kiki, she said once that she’d failed her driving test in the past. What if she crashes now with us in the car? What if-”

“Ness. We have drivers. We have people employed here who are quite literally drivers.” Breathe, she’s going to breathe. The contraction’s ending.

Vanessa pauses. “Oh. Right. Wait, your baby bag, we haven’t packed one!” She spins on her heel, starting to pace again. “What do we do?”

“Get one of the interns to do it.” Brooke grimaces because damn, her abdomen _ hurts_, and it’s still so early, and are they really about to have a baby?

Vanessa barks an order into her phone and comes around Brooke’s desk, pulling her close. Brooke leans her head against Vanessa’s stomach, who’s still standing and running her fingers through Brooke’s hair. 

“Okay. Okay. We can do this. Stay calm.” Vanessa’s muttering under her breath and Brooke looks up at her with an amused smile. 

“I am calm.” Brooke is. She’s trying to be, at least, because panicking isn’t going to help and she _ doesn’t _want to start to spiral too early. Maybe she’s not even in labour yet and this is a false alarm. 

“I was talking to myself.” Vanessa’s voice is sheepish and Brooke lets out a snort, because of course she was. 

Brooke feels another wave of pain hit, stronger this time and lets out a whimper because it _ hurts, _ more so than before. Vanessa’s suddenly on the floor beside her, and Brooke can hear her talking _ (‘It’s okay, baby, you’re okay, you’re okay’) _ and tries her best to focus on her. Though the way she’s gripping the armrests of her chair is certainly going to make them break. 

It feels like an eternity before the contraction passes, even though Brooke’s clock tells her that it’s only been forty five seconds. 

“Hey. Hey. Kiki brought the driver. You ready?” Vanessa’s looking up at Brooke expectantly, as if she’s asked the easiest question in the world. 

Ready? Are they ready for a baby? Will they be able to be parents? Will they be _ good parents? _

Is Brooke ready to push out an entire baby?

“I am, with you.” It’s true. They can do this. Brooke’s been through so much with Vanessa, survived deadly past careers, wayward gunshots, federal campaigns. Protected her physically from the world while Vanessa kept her together on the inside. 

Who’s to say they can’t do this too?

“Yeah. We’re ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me at plastiquetiaras on tumblr!


End file.
